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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24747370">Two Ghosts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/rochelleechidna/pseuds/rochelleechidna'>rochelleechidna</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime &amp; Manga)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Affection, Aging, Amusement Parks, Angst, Archaeology, Banter, Blood, Cuddling &amp; Snuggling, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, Heterochromia, Horror, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Intimacy, Kissing, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, One Shot Collection, Past Lives, Prompt Fic, Red String of Fate, Reunions, Rings, Roller Coasters, Scars, Second Chances, Self-Acceptance, Sexual Tension, Soulmates, Stress Relief, Tenderness, Tendershipping, Theft, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:49:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,250</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24747370</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/rochelleechidna/pseuds/rochelleechidna</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven one-shots - prompted by Tendershipping Week 2020 - featuring the many iterations of Ryou and Bakura's relationship.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bakura Ryou/Yami Bakura, Tendershipping - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>66</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>62</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Tendershipping Week 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Say My Name</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well, this is exciting! I've never participated in an official shipping week before, so this is a new experience for me - especially since this is also my first time writing tendershipping proper. For these seven one-shots, I'm focusing on Bakura as he appears in his "Yami" form - aside from, like, the literal last line of the final one, where we get the hint of him as the thief king haha Definitely excited to be part of this and to see all the other work everyone else posts :) So, let's start with the first prompt: <b>Ring</b>.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ryou had never felt true, visceral anger before now, upon his father failing him for the second time in his life.</p><p>The first failure – which Ryou imagined all children eventually experienced – happened a week after the deaths of his mother and sister. Following the funeral, his father had whisked them both off to a foreign land halfway across the world – away from stability, any chance at lasting friendships and all the happy memories Ryou had of the two people in his life that made it worth living.</p><p>He eventually grew to admire the sandy deserts and scorching sun, but knew in his heart of hearts that Egypt could never feel like home – not when home was the sight of a plate of <i>melonpan</i> after another bad day at school, or the sound of a young girl cackling in delight at being wrapped in warm towels, or a simple hug between comforting arms and tiny hands.</p><p>And despite standing in his own apartment, home <i>certainly</i> didn’t feel like the gold around his neck that – at this very moment – burned cold against his skin during one of the rare conversations with his father.</p><p>“How could you <i>lose</i> it?”</p><p>“Might have happened a few years ago or just the other day. Remember that I’ve had to keep track of far more valuable items in my travels.”</p><p>Ryou fumed at the implication – unsure whether the reaction came more easily because of a certain spiritual tenant or a desire to genuinely let loose – and allowed some frustration to creep into his voice.</p><p>“It was the only thing left of her.”</p><p>“Honestly, I hadn’t even thought about it until you asked. We both miss them, Ryou, but—”</p><p>“<i>No.</i>” His father only used his name when he inadvertently tried to placate or patronise. Ryou hated being talked down to like a child – especially from someone who had made him grow up too fast. “<i>I</i> miss them. <i>I</i> think about them every day and I just wanted—” The conversation had veered into uncomfortable territory. Ryou knew he was allowed to feel what he was feeling, but also couldn’t ignore his immense guilt at daring to have emotions. “I’m sorry, Dad. I know you’re trying your best. But if you <i>do</i> find it—”</p><p>“I’ll see if I have time.”</p><p>They exchanged awkward goodbyes – and empty assurances that yes, Ryou was eating and yes, the museum was still functioning and yes, <i>everything was alright</i> – before hanging up with a deafening <i>thud</i>.</p><p>“You were doing so well until the end. Should have let me take over.” The recognizable not-his-voice rang in Ryou’s head, and he rolled his eyes at the veiled threat.</p><p>“It’s my family, not yours. Besides, <i>you</i> were the one who rejected him all those years ago.”</p><p>“What can I say? I only have eyes for you, host.” Irked that the spirit refused to use his name, Ryou looked up to find the harsher version of himself suddenly standing before him.</p><p>“Not now, please. I want some time alone.”</p><p>“You haven’t been alone since you were eleven. Why start now?” Despite his teasing, the spirit <i>did</i> pull away – allowing Ryou enough room to move off of the kitchen counter and towards his worktable.</p><p>He didn’t particularly feel like creating campaigns or figurines right now – especially with the dark eyes of the spirit silently watching him from afar – but he needed <i>something</i> to take his mind off of the latest disappointment in his life. So, for the next few hours, the only sounds in the room were the faint scratches of a knife against wood – and the sharp ringing of tines from the burden weighing down on his shoulders.</p>
<hr/><p>The first memory that the spirit had gleaned from his new body was not one of anger, despair or retribution – emotions which over the millennia had slowly distilled into a near-tangible hum whose source was always just out of reach – but instead of a poignant sorrow.</p><p>The screams of a young boy. An unusual gravesite with what looked to be two markers. A warm hand reaching towards a cold one. A crowd of figures all dressed in black, all avoiding glancing down at—</p><p>“Landlord.” The boy gazed up from his work, eyes strained under the dim light. The spirit wondered what compelled his strange host whose body he inhabited to work under such dire circumstances – hesitating from saying the next words to which he'd already guessed the answer. “Tell me what made you so upset today.”</p><p>Furrowing his brow – the action never failing to set a flutter into the spirit’s long-dead heart, no matter how hard he’d deny it – the boy shook his head in defiance.</p><p>“It’s late.” His host glanced at the time – it was after two in the morning, and a school night at that. “Sad to say, I’d almost rather you make me stab myself again instead.”</p><p>The boy offered a pathetic chuckle and stood his slouched body off of the wooden chair to strip away his school uniform. There was no awkwardness to his actions, no cause for either to turn away in embarrassment – the intrusive spirit and the unwavering host shared the same body, so what point was there in hiding what was already <i>theirs?</i></p><p>“<i>Hmph.</i> That was <i>your</i> doing.”</p><p>The spirit gestured to the split skin – still not fully healed over – that graced the boy’s otherwise flawless, soft hand. He tried to ignore how much he wanted to grab that hand as he’d done so many times before – while his host was locked away within his own mind – and slowly drag it across his face as a reminder of… <i>something</i>. Something lost long ago. Something hidden within a vast collection of memories – stored somewhere within the gold that hung across his host’s pale chest.</p><p>His eyes wandered to the deep marks barely covered by the Ring, and his vision became clouded by a flash of fire and smoke – mixed in with the image of a broken child and the sound of the earlier exchange.</p><p>“My point still stands.” The words brought reality back to the fore. Noticing where the spirit’s gaze lay, his host hastily threw a loose shirt over himself and crawled into bed. The flashes of neon from the city outside almost made him resemble the spirit’s own waif-life physique – sallow body, unruly hair, gloomy eyes... “Not my problem if <i>some</i> pesky spirits need a bedtime story to fall asleep.”</p><p>The spirit suddenly felt a twinge of annoyance at how – for all his years of waiting and planning for the vague semblance of revenge – this mere <i>vessel</i> dared to deny him so simple a request as one lousy memory that he could hold onto, even if it wasn’t his own. Well, if that’s how the boy wanted to play—</p><p>“Why so defiant? I can <i>make</i> you tell me, after all.” At that, his host eyed him with a look of… curiosity? Not the expression the spirit had been going for – but the night was still young, and he had plenty of tactics. “If you only knew what I’ve seen. The <i>acts</i> I’ve heard you partake in during especially lonely nights.”</p><p>“Blackmail isn’t a good look on you, <i>spirit</i>. Besides, it sounds like you <i>know a lot</i> already. Although—” Maybe it was his lack of sleep, but the boy lowered his eyes and mindlessly stroked the Ring – giving off a daring look that the spirit knew too well from his own image. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”</p><p>Stunned, enraged and humiliated, the spirit abandoned his hopes for a story, a remembrance – <i>something more</i> – retreating into the soul room located somewhere between his host’s mind and the Ring laying by his head.</p>
<hr/><p>“It’s only been eight years, but I don’t remember a lot about them. Sad, isn’t it?”</p><p>The words were abrupt and loud – altogether unexpected to both of their ears.</p><p>“<i>Now</i> you want to talk, host?”</p><p>“She had a ring. Her wedding ring. My sister and I loved how it shined in the light. Even as kids, we knew it meant that our family was whole and together and—” Ryou didn’t know why he was bringing this up after a week of silence between them. The spirit didn’t know why he was indulging in listening to the boy whom he should have seen as merely a means to an end. But the conversation continued. “He got rid of everything that was a reminder of them after they died. Photos, toys, books… I figured he’d at least kept track of that one ring, that <i>one reminder</i> that she existed, but when I asked him this last time we talked…”</p><p>Ryou’s pale hands absentmindedly grabbed onto the Ring. Whether he realised it or not, the object had become a security blanket of sorts at his most anxious and trying moments – and he refused to let go. In the past week or so, the spirit had been taken aback by how vehemently his host had protected the Millennium Item – never removing it, never letting others near it… and always touching it like a lifeline.</p><p>“You’ve placed so much importance on such a small thing.” The spirit swore he felt his host’s fingers actually caressing his <i>own</i> skin now – the recollection of comforting hands gracing his cheeks and the firm embrace of strong arms ran through his mind. And then the peace broke as he stared longer at the eye in the center of the Ring – a flood of screams rushed at him through flames, crying out for a son, a brother—</p><p>“Spirit?”</p><p>“It’s like your family’s fate was sealed inside that ring.” The spirit was unsure if the words were an observation or a realisation.</p><p>“Strange way to see it.” Ryou warily surveyed his unwelcome tenant, missing the double meaning. “But I guess we’re strange people, spirit. Speaking of… is there something else I should call you?”</p><p>After so many years, the question was wholly surprising – but not altogether unexpected.</p><p>The spirit considered the boy before him, considered how he never said his lost ones' names, considered the memories that came alive with their intermingled pain thousands of years apart, considered the irony of their fates – and happiness – resting upon single bands of gold. Before Ryou knew what was happening, their bodies were pressed together in an incredibly awkward hug – with the Ring hanging between them like connective tissue.</p><p>“Is something wrong?”</p><p>“Nothing.” The spirit choked back a sob as he held tight to his host – his own lifeline. “Nothing at all… <i>Ryou.</i>”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Sick of Losing Soulmates</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Next up, we have the prompt <b>Red String of Fate</b>. All of these chapters are actually half the length of a normal chapter I'd write for a fic - so I'm not quite sure whether that makes them drabbles, one-shots or something else entirely different haha I also don't necessarily see these prompts as taking place within the same universe, but if you'd like to imagine they do then that's fine by me! Anyway, onwards with some well-deserved fluff and our favourite spirit needing <i>just</i> the right amount of cuddles :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Bakura-<i>san</i>! Will you walk with us to class?”</p><p>“I made you some <i>onigiri</i>, Bakura-<i>san</i>! Won’t you please try?”</p><p>“You’re so nice to me! I wish more boys were like you, Bakura-<i>san</i>!”</p><p>Since they’d started attending Domino High several months ago, it was the same story every single day. Girls would pester the host as soon as he made his way onto the school grounds, vying for his attention with hollow compliments and overwhelming amounts of attention – the latter of which especially grated on the spirit’s nerves.</p><p>And each time, the too-nice landlord would simply wave away the words and actions of his female classmates – all the while blushing and smiling that sincere smile for which he was adored – and move as fast as he could from class to class, all to get through the day as painlessly as possible.</p><p>It was certainly tempting to take control during those insufferable moments. The Ring was always around the boy's neck these days, so it would be easy enough to slip into the warm, young body, take it for a spin, show those silly little girls a thing or two about <i>real</i> infatuation—</p><p>Yet he never did. After the Monster World debacle with the Pharaoh’s friends and their recent return from Duelist Kingdom, the landlord had made it clear that any harm that might befall more “innocents” – the word earning a mighty chuckle – would reap severe consequences. And while it was obvious that with the Ring on his person there was little that the host could <i>really</i> do… something about the determination in his eyes and the severity of his convictions persuaded the spirit not to push his luck.</p><p>But even more than that potential looming threat, he found that there was simply no fun to be had in toying with the boy’s admirers. Not because it wouldn’t be delightfully entertaining – his years trapped away from human contact had built up quite an appetite to act on all the wicked thoughts swirling around in his head – but rather because <i>they</i> held no particular pleasure.</p><p>The landlord on the other hand—</p><p>“Excuse me, Bakura-<i>san</i>. My friend, she wanted me to, um, give you this, uh, note…”</p><p>But that could never be.</p><p>The host was merely a vessel, a tool – a human with human needs who would settle down someday with one of these girls and have a normal family and live the happy life he deserved because that’s what happened to kind people like him.</p><p>And he was just a spirit who until recently couldn’t recall the last time he’d heard so much as a kind word – or <i>any</i> word, for that matter – thrown his way.</p>
<hr/><p>“Wanna go try out the new arcade game this weekend?”</p><p>“I’ve heard it’s near impossible to beat!”</p><p>“I bet Yugi could handle it, no problem!”</p><p>“Bakura, you should join us! It’s been so long since we all hung out together!”</p><p>“Yeah, Bakura, you gotta play more games besides that freaky Monster World!”</p><p>The spirit scoffed at the overly-enthusiastic invitations from the Pharaoh’s friends – invitations that conveniently only came about whenever it suited <i>their</i> needs. Remembering his begrudging promise not to harm them – at least not <i>yet</i>, he thought to himself – he held back from giving them a <i>real</i> challenge like his attempt from months before.</p><p>Instead, he watched from inside their shared mind as the host politely declined his pseudo-friends’ offers and backed away – with some flimsy excuse of needing to study or shop for dinner. It wasn’t like he would ever actually take up any of their invites, no matter how many times they tried. Really, he couldn’t blame the boy if that was the sort of nonsense that counted as fun these days. But, of course, what would a vengeful spirit know of “fun” or “friendship” or “affection” or...</p><p>After 3,000 years, he could only recall scant details about the life he’d lost that fateful night – and even less about the various forms of love that had been bestowed upon him.</p><p>If he closed his eyes and tried very hard, sometimes a blurry image would appear of what he assumed to be a parent – not so much in appearance, but rather in <i>feeling</i>. The same went for various other family members, friends, neighbours – particularly one boy who glowed in his mind’s eye clearer than all others. The faded memories of running across the hot sand dunes and toppling over one another and wrestling together and holding each other’s darkened bodies close for just a few seconds longer than usual whirled together to form an emotion he hadn’t considered in so long – a yearning that he found now applied to the white-haired host who sat alone in his apartment amongst the fading sunlight.</p><p>But like that boy who’d died and whose name had been lost to the ages – same as all the others – the spirit held no hope for a different outcome this time around. He of course expected the world to fall into darkness when the appropriate moment came – soon, he would hear whispered from the demon beckoning behind his back, very soon – but regardless of that minor setback… the mere idea that he was destined to ever find someone worth spending his miserable life with was laughable at best and heart-breaking at worst.</p><p>He’d been denied any chance of happiness, any hope of experiencing that powerful sort of intimacy that sent <i>normal</i> people floating on clouds or walking on air or some such drivel. Frankly, between several millennia with a demon and the last few years with a host too nice for his own good, the spirit was sick and tired of trying to wrap his head around the very notion of love.</p><p>If the massacre he barely remembered had proved anything, it was that such companionship wasn’t meant for the likes of him. He knew that the raw emotions that wiggled their way inside – with each day that he stayed longer beside the host – could never be fulfilled. He couldn’t lose sight of what he’d already lost – what destiny awaited him instead, after his life had been so altered.</p><p>Despite the warm body he inhabited, his world was still very much cold – and he intended to keep it that way.</p>
<hr/><p>“You’ve been quiet lately.”</p><p>He didn’t know why he blurted the words out now of all times. It was the middle of the night and the landlord was trying to sleep – <i>needed</i> to sleep, if the dark circles under his eyes and stooped, skeletal frame were any indication. A groan from the bed was tacit confirmation that the spirit had thought right.</p><p>“Please… not you, too…” It was an altogether different voice that the landlord used with him compared with everyone else. When speaking to others, his eyes would crinkle, his face would glow, his tambour would flow like a sweet song as it lilted in high tones and soft cadences.</p><p>Yet a special air was reserved for when <i>they</i> conversed – still with the hint of sickening niceties, but with more of a razor’s edge that shocked the spirit to his core every time.</p><p>“Just an observation. Personally, I don’t care. Such <i>human</i> qualities are trouble. You’re better off without them all. The loneliness of the dark suits you more.”</p><p>“<i>Hmph.</i> You may be a spirit, but that doesn’t mean you have to <i>project</i> so much.” The implication combined with the pun almost made the spirit laugh out loud – but he held his tongue as the host turned over to face him. “Don’t act so high and mighty. I can tell when you feel anger, irritation… <i>jealousy</i>.”</p><p>The spirit didn’t know why that last intimation bothered him so much, but he barely had time to consider it further before he found himself drawn into the inviting bed – whether it was by the boy’s hand or his own doing, he couldn’t quite say. And then, they were two mirror-images laying quiet for a very long time – staring at each other with the same dark eyes as the same white hair trailed around the same pale faces while the same slim hands unconsciously wrapped about the same frail frames.</p><p>This couldn’t be happening, he thought – every urge in his stolen body pleaded to move away and not indulge. It went against his plans for vengeance, not to mention the promise he’d made never to—</p><p>“You know there’s no reason to be. Jealous, I mean.” The landlord inched his face closer and nuzzled against the spirit's neck so that heated breath graced cool skin.</p><p>“Host, I don’t know what you’re implying, but—”</p><p>“Just hold me.”</p><p>The lack of a “please” startled the spirit, but he found himself helpless to deny the request. He held on tight as if grasping salvation – wholly unsurprised when his own hands betrayed him and gently stroked the soft bangs around the boy’s face.</p><p>“<i>Mmmm</i>… that feels… really… nice…”</p><p>But the host’s words didn’t quite match his tone. The spirit felt hot tears pool around his shoulder – and he intuitively pulled their bodies even closer as an unspoken promise that he would never let go.</p><p>They touched each other as tenderly as possible, gradually breaking down their own walls and exposing long-held vulnerabilities to each other – <i>only ever</i> each other. Muffled sobs rose from below, and the spirit gripped his fingers right against the boy’s scalp.</p><p>“She also used to—”</p><p>The words disappeared as soon as they were spoken, but it was enough – spurring on a brief image in his head of the earlier boy, clearer than ever, as they laid together to keep warm during cool desert nights thousands of years before. It was the last semblance of joy he could recollect, and the selfish urge to embrace that sensation again with <i>this</i> boy – who, like him, had seen his own share of horrors – was too great to ignore.</p><p>Irregardless of sharing the same headspace… how could he possibly be <i>jealous</i> when there was such an implicit, mutual understanding between them?</p><p>He didn’t even realise that he'd released his own tears until he drew back, when the host – <i>his</i> host – leaned forward to kiss and lick his way around the salty streams. Neither objected when wet cheeks were replaced by matching lips, nor when clothes were discarded in favour of same-skin-on-same-skin contact.</p><p>Their tangled limbs were like ropes binding them together in a pact. And as they breathed and released in a continuous embrace, the spirit finally accepted that – at least together – they’d never be alone again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Shimmer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was by far the hardest prompt to come up with a concept for, so I hope it lives up to the others haha With all of these, I've tried to think of how I can go beyond the obvious idea and elevate it into something else so that it's not super on-the-nose - or, at the very least, integrates multiple concepts together to see what comes out. Whether that tactic works or not is up for debate, but I hope it's making these one-shots fun to read :D So, without further ado, let's tackle today's prompt, <b>Jewels</b> - enter if ye like puns!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As with most aspects involving his landlord, the spirit quickly realised that the best thing about kissing Ryou wasn’t the small mewls of pleasure that escaped his lips in the milliseconds between each breath for air… nor the desperation for closeness as he grasped at thick clothes… nor even the smiles that graced his mouth when their bodies eventually pulled away.</p><p>Rather, Bakura was captivated by an altogether different aspect of his host each time they concluded one of their “sessions” that allowed them to explore the not-so-hidden feelings within their shared mind.</p><p>“Have your eyes always been… <i>that</i> colour?”</p><p>His host currently sported a slight tint of pink to his usually – <i>were they usually?</i> – brown pupils. The shade caught Bakura off-guard – their shine bringing to mind a citrine or jasper gemstone like he’d seen in stores they passed on the rare days they ventured out.</p><p>“They change depending on the light. Sometimes even how I feel.” Ryou giggled as Bakura reverently stroked a hand under his eyelashes – amused by how a humble facial feature could elicit such a reaction from a thousands-year-old vindictive spirit. “Think of me as a human mood ring.”</p><p>Considering he’d only been back in the outside world for a grand total of seven years, Bakura didn’t know any better than to question the odd statement – not sure what exactly a <i>mood ring</i> was. So instead, he simply leaned forward into the carbon copy of his body – <i>Ryou’s</i> body, he had to remind himself – and ran a chilled tongue across his host’s exposed collarbone.</p><p>After several minutes of teasing the sensitive area and moving up slowly to lick along his neck, Bakura drew back to regard his host’s lidded eyes – now taking on an almost translucent grey colour like those of a pearl or quartz.</p><p>“Seems it’s not <i>just</i> the light or your mood, landlord.” Bakura spoke with his typical smirk, running his fingers – <i>Ryou’s</i> fingers – through the soft white hair that fell like trellises along slim shoulders. The spirit leaned forward to nip at his host’s lobe – producing a too-adorable whine – and spoke directly into his pale ear. “Your eyes are better than any gems I could have stolen in my prime.”</p><p>“Even for you, that’s a lame pick-up line.” Bakura could practically hear Ryou shaking his head in embarrassment – he sounded slightly annoyed at the overabundance of talking and the distinct lack of kissing. “Besides, they’re <i>your</i> eyes, too.”</p><p>“I <i>see</i> your point.” Bakura cackled at his own pun and ran his palms along his host’s reddening cheeks. Ryou muffled his soft laughter against the back of his hand and gazed at the spirit like they were the only two individuals left in the world – or, at the very least, their shared soul room.</p><p>“God, really? You’ve got me pressed against you and you want to make puns?”</p><p>“What? Was it too <i>cornea</i> for you, landlord?”</p><p>“Spirit! Less jokes, more kisses!” Despite the failed attempts to hide his amusement, Ryou tried to maintain control and moved their mouths back together – successfully stealing a few more surprisingly deep lip-locks before Bakura once again broke away. “What <i>now?</i>”</p><p>“With all this talk about gems and eyes and how Gods-damned gorgeous you are, I guess that…” Bakura smiled as he saw Ryou blush even harder – his eyes now taking on a purple tone – and leaned in close to speak between quick pecks. “Beauty… really is… in the eye… of the beholder.”</p><p>Now Bakura was the one who laughed out loud. Meanwhile, Ryou slid his head against the spirit’s shoulder and groaned.</p><p>“You’re so bad. You know that, right?” They both failed to contain their giggles – their unbridled joy bringing light to an otherwise dreary arena.</p><p>But a sudden, distant roar broke their reverie and saw them unconsciously cling to one another. At the same moment as the unwelcome noise, Ryou tensed – and Bakura felt his host’s near-petrified gaze lock onto his own.</p><p>“What’s wrong?”</p><p>“<i>Your</i> eyes…”</p><p>Bakura didn’t need a mirror to know what Ryou was looking at. The pact he’d made with the demon millennia ago had served its purpose and gotten him this far in his quest for revenge, yes… but the side effects weren’t always pretty. His host had dealt with the loss of memories, the mood swings, the random acts of violence and so, so much more than he’d ever thought would occur.</p><p>Yet the spirit found that this one aspect made him the most self-conscious of all – especially as Ryou continued to give him that strange expression of both fear and awe.</p><p>For all the fun they’d just been having – especially considering the newness of it all – Bakura suddenly found he couldn’t look at Ryou’s face any longer if it appeared <i>that way.</i> Without another word, he pushed his host back into the recesses of their mind. And when he blinked his eyes, he was back in “their” apartment atop “their” bed – away from demons and darkness and intimacy and—</p><p>A quick glance at a nearby mirror made his borrowed heart skip a beat. It had been a very long time since Bakura had gotten a good look at his reflection when the presence within his own mind presented itself. But the flash of pure red emanating from his eyes – that dissipated almost instantaneously – was enough to remind him of what he <i>really</i> was… what he assumed Ryou had inexplicably fallen for.</p><p>After all, he’d observed his host growing up over the years and seen where his interests had evolved – it didn’t take a lot to know that Ryou was fascinated by the freakish, mesmerised by the macabre and transfixed by the terrifying. And as much as Bakura wanted to think it wasn’t the case, a part of him – the weak, <i>human</i> part of him – gave into believing it was <i>those</i> aspects which had elevated his host’s curiosity to obvious attraction.</p><p>Despite his many idiosyncrasies, if Ryou was like a pure gemstone – untouched, unblemished and unaffected by all the evils he’d lived through – Bakura was more akin to a filthy rock purposefully tossed around to create as much damage as possible. And that same utterly human side of himself wished – for the first time in 3,000 years – that he could undo that dreaded pact and be seen for who he once was… for the sake of Ryou’s affection and his own sanity.</p>
<hr/><p>It had been the longest they’d gone without kissing – or “making out” as Ryou was fond of correcting Bakura, considering their technical, comparable age. And yet the spirit barely noticed the passing days as he felt the reverberations of the demon inside booming for Bakura to uphold their deal. Ryou, for his part, gave his tenant the space he required – which only made the spirit ache for his attention even more.</p><p>He chastised himself for being so damn stupid – so torn between the familiar, tempting world of the demon and the fresh, exciting world of his host. The former promised rewards of vengeance and power and glory, but the latter had those <i>eyes</i> – those beautiful orbs that conjured up long-lost memories of similarly dazzling jewels stolen in the dead of night from those in the highest seats of power.</p><p>So long as the spirit could just keep those eyes in his wretched life—</p><p>“Looks like it’s going to rain.” The phrase was said innocently enough, but Bakura didn’t respond one way or another. He and his host had remained virtually silent during the last couple weeks traveling to and from school, running errands, working on the final shadow game that would determine the fate of the world… <i>normal</i> tasks, he reminded himself. Ryou’s voice piped up again, this time more resolute. “We forgot the umbrella back at the apartment. If we don’t walk faster—”</p><p>“What’s all this ‘we’ nonsense, host?”</p><p>“You. Me. Us. We’re in this together, aren’t we?” Ryou seemed genuinely taken aback – he moved them under a nearby tree as the first droplets began to fall, allowing them to more easily converse “face-to-face.” “I may not approve of your methods or even your ultimate goal. But I understand your reasons behind it, and I promised I would help you.”</p><p>“So this—” Bakura gestured lewdly between them. “—It’s all out of pity then?”</p><p>“Spirit, what—”</p><p>“Or is it some strange fascination you have with the undead? With the <i>bad guys?</i> Gods knows with the things you watch on that weird contraption—”</p><p>“Are you saying I shouldn’t have feelings for you?”</p><p>“I’m saying you don’t know what those feelings <i>are!</i>” Bakura turned his face away at the outburst and backed against the tree. The rain had started pouring more heavily now, drenching Ryou and dusting the spirit with faint sprays that – unbeknownst to him – made his body glow brightly in the darkening light.</p><p>“I can’t help who I care about. You should know that better than anyone.” Ryou stepped forward – a familiar gesture by now, but he didn’t make to touch the spirit’s face or body this time.</p><p>“I was alone for <i>much</i> longer than—”</p><p>“Remember what you did years ago? When you trapped my friends in those Monster World figures?” Bakura still avoided his host’s gaze, but couldn’t help noticing out of his periphery how the rain had turned Ryou’s eyes a hypnotising shade of turquoise. “It took me so long to forgive you for what happened. I couldn’t understand why you did what you did. But then I remembered how you heard my wish for friends. And it got me wondering… if that might be <i>your</i> wish, too.”</p><p>“<i>Tsk.</i> I may need your body, landlord, but that doesn’t mean I want—”</p><p>“Yes, it does.” <i>Now</i> Ryou placed his warm fingers against the spirit’s cool neck. “Because you saw a child in pain and wanted to help when no one had done the same for you. That’s not the demon in you. That’s just <i>you.</i>”</p><p>Bakura nearly felt himself crumble under the trusting, loving gaze. He felt his hands wrap around the small of Ryou’s back to pull him closer against the tree, never once breaking away from the eyes that – he definitively concluded – were most like supernatural, loving and hope-filled opals.</p><p>“You deserve more, Ryou. Your soul… You’re so beau—” One heartfelt kiss was all it took to silence all doubts in Bakura’s mind – he whimpered as Ryou drew back, and nearly gasped when he spoke again.</p><p>“Thanks to you, I got my wish and so much more. I have friends… And the best treasure of all.”</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Daylight Robbery</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Three guesses as to how today's prompt of <b>Thief</b> plays out :D Not gonna lie, this was probably the most fun to write - mainly because I got to embrace my naturally perverse tendencies and end on (more-than-mild) spiciness... gotta tow that T+ line haha If this week has taught me anything, it's that writing without relying on eventual porn is damn hard - my hat goes off to those authors that consistently do so! Anyway, have some tendershipping shenanigans and fluff and (very) softcore smut :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ryou hadn’t actually <i>meant</i> to steal it. The small pack of snacks had just somehow stayed in his hand as he’d purveyed all the other items in the store – clasped tightly between dexterous fingers that seemed to know more what was going on than his own mind.</p><p>He hadn’t even realised he’d walked out with the sweets in tow until he got home and unloaded his pockets from the long school day. And as his attention was grabbed by the recognizable branding splayed across the packet, Ryou let out a long sigh and set about making a cup of tea.</p><p>“You can’t keep doing this, you know.” As if on cue, his translucent mirror-image appeared to the left – arms crossed and petulant expression plastered across the familiar, hardened face.</p><p>“It’s <i>your</i> body, landlord. I’m but a mere spirit. What would I need with such banal trivialities like food or candy?” Ryou shook his head at the words – it was <i>no wonder</i> he suffered from dehydration and stomach pains whenever he conveniently “blacked out” – and walked right through the floating form beside him. He settled his tired body near the cramped kitchen table and sipped at his tea – nearly choking as the spirit continued to speak in a much quieter tone. “Besides, those are your favourites.”</p><p>This wasn’t the first time that his uninvited tenant had spoken words laced somewhere between yearning and uncertainty – but it was indeed the only time in their years together that he’d revealed such a level of selflessness.</p><p>Still, it had been a hard day, and Ryou wasn’t about to give praise to… his double? his ghost? him<i>self</i>? The bodily autonomy of their predicament was too much to consider for the moment – more soothing tea, that’s all he needed…</p><p>“Did it ever occur to you that one of these days <i>I</i> might get caught? That’d put quite a damper on all of your half-assed plans for vengeance, wouldn’t it?”</p><p>“Language, landlord! My goodness, you’re testy today.”</p><p>At that, Ryou slammed the cup down – surprised by his own strength – and ran nimble fingers across his aching head.</p><p>“Cut the act, spirit! We’ve been together long enough that you don’t need to speak that way with me.”</p><p>Even without directly looking at his face, Ryou could tell by the change in atmosphere that the spirit was genuinely stunned.</p><p>“You’re really upset...” It was less a question and more a point-of-fact – an acknowledgment that even the kindest of people had a breaking point. “Did something happen?”</p><p>“<i>Hmpf.</i> You’d know, wouldn’t you? Considering how you’re inside me all day.” Ryou groaned at the words right as they left his mouth – he buried his head between his arms on the table and tried his best to shut out the omnipresent voice within his head, awaiting the inevitable laughter.</p><p>Except it never came.</p><p>Instead, a strange feeling of warmth emanated to his side, and Ryou tilted his head just enough to glean a faint blush creeping across the spirit’s face. But before another word could be spoken, he disappeared from sight – leaving the barely-there statement of <i>just eat them</i> hanging in the air.</p><p>Ryou eyed the sweets again – this time with less consternation – and tore open the packet with reckless abandon. He figured it wouldn’t make sense to return it when the day was getting so late, and he’d had such a stressful afternoon that maybe he <i>did</i> deserve a little treat. And – as much as he was loathe to admit it – the spirit was right… they <i>were</i> his favourites.</p>
<hr/><p>The following weeks saw a larger amount of items than usual <i>just happen</i> to appear within Ryou’s apartment. Whether it was more of his preferred snacks, household items he was running low on or school supplies he’d forgotten to buy – always small trinkets that carried more importance to Ryou than the average person – it seemed that each day offered a new surprise. Not that Ryou could very much complain – the tension between his body and the spirit’s soul was never going to be decisively won either way… and it wasn’t like the little gifts <i>weren’t</i> a nice boost as he readied for the winter term’s exams.</p><p>So, he gave up trying to stop the thieving tendencies of his bothersome “roommate” – if one of his escapades was discovered, he was perfectly content with letting the spirit live with the consequences, his grand plans for revenge against the Pharaoh be damned.</p><p>Yet for all his stubbornness, Ryou simultaneously found it harder and harder to ignore the way the spirit’s eyes would roam expectantly from across the room as he studied late into the night, or the hitched breaths each time he stretched and exposed just the slightest hint of skin, or how he loomed in the back of his mind with a grounding presence that more often than not necessitated silence instead of words.</p><p>“Spirit, you know I’ve lived alone for a while now, right? You don’t <i>have</i> to do so much for me.” Ryou had abstained from commenting on the recurring bad habit, but found he couldn’t hold his tongue when he awoke one Saturday morning to find a fairly expensive Monster World figurine displayed on his nightstand.</p><p>“Who said anything about doing all this for <i>you?</i>” The spirit leaned on the adjacent wall and stared down at Ryou – his face as cynical as ever, yet with eyes that betrayed a softness around the edges. “Consider it preparation for the final battle in your deadbeat father’s museum.”</p><p>“I see. So you finally admit you’re up to something.”</p><p>“How many years has it been, landlord?” That trademark smirk graced itself across the spirit’s face – and Ryou unconsciously found himself matching it while surrounded in the heat of his shabby duvet. “Like you said, you should know me by now.”</p><p>“You’re right. I should. And considering how much you’ve done recently, I wanted to say thank you for… everything.” Ryou gestured to the various items that had made their way into his apartment over the last month – before hopping out of his bed and slowly approaching the wisp of a man against his wall. The spirit stiffened at the compliment and the gesture, yet made no move to disappear like normal. “Before that, though, I wanted to say how sorry I am.”</p><p>“<i>Tsk.</i> If you’re thinking you need to make anything up to me—”</p><p>“Nothing of the sort. Just—” Ryou reached out towards the spirit’s face – amazed that he’d never actually <i>tried</i> to do so before now – and almost pulled back as he felt a cool sensation run underneath his fingertips. “I’m sorry I never realised until recently.”</p><p>“<i>Realised?</i> I— I don’t have the slightest idea what—”</p><p>“Spirit.”</p><p>They both knew the underlying message – the meaning behind those stolen glances and wistful sighs and shared feelings that neither dared bring up that had only grown stronger in recent weeks. And as Ryou languidly graced his hand across the features so similar to his own, the spirit ever-so-slightly eased into the movement as his host stepped closer and closer inwards – as much as they’d deny it, the touch was clearly affecting both of them.</p><p>“What do you think you’re doing?” The words were barely a whisper, but Ryou was so near that he could almost feel them.</p><p>“Only what you do. Stealing to satisfy an urge… and make you happy.”</p><p>A moment later, Ryou knew that he’d never need to say “thank you” ever again – not with how graciously he leant forward to capture the spirit’s lips against his own in an admittedly clumsy kiss. It was his first – no surprise, given his apparent isolation from most of the world. What <i>was</i> surprising was how it seemed to be matched in experience by the half-there-half-fading spirit whose own chilled mouth was gradually warmed by the soft tongue pressing into his own.</p><p>Neither questioned how exactly they were able to feel – the word taking on a torrent of new meanings as they continued to move against each other for far longer than expected. A quiet moan escaped from one of their mouths – it was unclear whose – as the cold from the spirit’s skin and the warmth from Ryou’s melded together to create what felt like electrical sparks between their faces.</p><p>All at once, Ryou found himself transported to a familiar place devoid of time and dimension – but he cared less for the fact that he and the spirit were now in his soul room and more for how the shift in space had intensified the feeling of their skin touching.</p><p>“Ryou…”</p><p>The sound of his name coming from a voice that was both his own and yet not spurred pale hands to reach for faded clothes and caress the surprisingly soft skin found underneath. Ryou pushed the wild not-his-hair to the side and latched onto the slim neck – all in the hopes of eliciting more ecstatic groans from the spirit now straddled beneath him.</p><p>“Gods, Ryou… lower…”</p><p>Ryou moved his teeth down to graze gently at the crux where shoulder met neck – before realising that the intended “lower” had less to do with what was up top and more to do with—</p><p>“<i>Yesss...</i>”</p><p>They moved on instinct and hitched against each other in desperate motions. From afar, the pair might have looked mismatched, uncoordinated even – fully clothed yet in conflicting states of undress, not quite meeting the other’s rhythm, mistiming their kisses whenever one would throw a head back and cry out loudly at the sudden bursts of pleasure. But up-close, they were a storm of pale limbs and pink lips and dark eyes racing towards a finish line that neither would admit they felt they deserved.</p><p>“Are you—”</p><p>“<i>Yes!</i> Yes, please— <i>ah!</i>”</p><p>The sight and sound of the spirit coming undone from the glorious friction sent Ryou over the edge – and he came crashing down atop their equally heaving chests.</p><p>“<i>Hmm....</i> You’re more perceptive... than I thought... landlord.” Even now, the man below couldn’t help but look like the cat that got the cream. Ryou just rolled his eyes and leant back down.</p><p>“Shut up and kiss me, spirit.” And so the two contrasting reflections did just that.</p><p>They hadn’t even gotten to what they assumed were the good parts yet, but the day had barely begun – and there were still plenty more lingering kisses, gasps for air and delectable moans to steal. After all, Ryou – pulling away and smiling in genuine happiness at the stubborn, over-protective spirit below him – had learned from the best.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Set Free</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Today's prompt is <b>Chains</b> - the only one-shot where I take it to its <i>least</i> literal conclusion haha I realised while writing these that I have zero consistency for the way Ryou and Bakura's relationship literally works - insofar as how he looks, what physical properties he has, when he appears, what control he has, etc. Considering that that question never gets answered in the canon anyway, I say draw your own conclusions :D Thus, onwards with our favourite creampuff being a not-so-secret thrill-seeker!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>To the untrained eye, Ryou seemingly fell into a certain “type” – meek, unassuming, too nice for his own good, people-pleaser, overly polite, victim-like, innocent, naïve, easily frightened…</p><p>What <i>utter</i> nonsense, the spirit chuckled as he felt their body whisked off on a train headed east – eventually bringing them to the Fuji-Q Highland amusement park. He didn’t question the decision to leave Domino for the day or the sudden change of scenery until a large, imposing construction made its way into view.</p><p>“Host…” Through Ryou’s eyes, the spirit slowly looked up and up and <i>up</i> at what he would later learn was a rollercoaster – taller than any pyramid and steeper than any sand dune. “We are <i>not</i> getting anywhere near that monstrosity.”</p><p>“I’ve wanted to go on Fujiyama since it opened last summer. And not even <i>you</i>, spirit, are going to stop me.” Ryou walked their body towards the end of a long line – the spirit suddenly felt like an ant in the ride’s presence, and he <i>hated</i> it. His host seemed to sense his trepidation, and smirked – <i>smirked!</i> – in response. “<i>What?</i> For the last few months it’s been nothing but practice duels and exams and <i>you</i> having control.”</p><p>“<i>Pfft.</i> You think getting on <i>that</i> is going to give you a sense of control?”</p><p>“No. That’s the whole point.” His host smiled to himself – to <i>the spirit</i> – and gazed up longingly at the first big dip of the rollercoaster. The delighted screams of park patrons filled the air as they whizzed by on the ride – Ryou laughed eagerly and felt the spirit groan in response. “Should’ve thought twice before choosing me as your ‘landlord.’”</p><p>The spirit didn’t bother arguing how he hadn’t exactly “chosen” Ryou as his intended host – really, he didn’t get a chance to before they moved closer and closer to the front and were ushered through to board the final seat, thank the Gods—</p><p>“That’s too bad.” Ryou spoke far too cheerfully for someone who was surely about to plummet to his death. “We would’ve had a great view of Mount Fuji if we’d been sat up front. But just remember, spirit… we get to feel <i>all</i> the action now that we’re in the back.”</p><p>The spirit had only ever felt his blood turn completely cold twice before – when he’d seen his family mercilessly turned to gold, and when he’d first heard the insane laughter of the demon within the Ring. But as he surveyed the lay of the land and took in just how high they would end up… this was definitely a <i>very</i> close contender. He grew silent and recessed slightly into their mind.</p><p>“Don’t tell me you’re scared of heights?” Genuine concern entered Ryou’s voice, but the spirit just scoffed.</p><p>“<i>Hmph</i>. I don’t see the big deal. It’s nothing but wood and metal and chains. Hardly enough to scare— <i>oh, Gods!</i>”</p><p>The ascent started abruptly and only increased the conflicting emotions in their stomach – inconsistent only because of Ryou’s excitement and the spirit’s newfound anxiety. He knew begging, pleading, closing his eyes, hiding away in the Ring wouldn’t do any good – he would literally just have to ride this feeling out.</p><p>“Hey, spirit…” At the zenith of their climb, his host suddenly released his hands around the safety rail and lifted his arms halfway into the air – near-whispering in a coy voice. “Let go.”</p><p>The spirit didn’t have time to take control of Ryou’s body and re-grasp the bar before they were falling, falling, <i>falling</i> – twisting and turning and dipping and diving. All the while, his host let loose appreciative shrieks and whoops – while the spirit did everything he could to count down the minutes until they would be back on solid ground.</p><p>But against his better judgement… he <i>did</i> find that this provided an experience that he’d heretofore missed out on. Soon enough, the line between Ryou enjoying the thrill and the spirit begrudgingly revealing a smile was blurred.</p><p>When the ride finally did stop – the spirit cackling in their mind at how frazzled Ryou’s hair had become – they stepped off on wobbly legs and made their way to a small eatery.</p><p>“Guess you deserve a little treat for going through all that.” His host promptly ordered the meatiest dish on the menu – and any unsettled tension in their stomach was immediately gone at the sight of the food placed on their table. “I’m proud of you, you know. For letting go.”</p><p>“<i>Tsk.</i> I don’t need your platitudes.” The spirit took control – Ryou <i>let him</i> take control – and ravenously tore into the steak and pork. “It wasn’t so bad. I could’ve stopped you anytime I wanted.”</p><p>“I know. But you didn’t.” The food was gone in no time. They stood up and walked back outside into the heat and made their way over to the same ride and what the fu— “That’s why we’re doing it again.”</p><p>Ryou was right in that the spirit <i>could</i> easily take over their body whenever he wished. But his host was frustratingly correct on a second point – for once, he’d been able to actually <i>feel free.</i> And for all his stubbornness, the adrenaline rush from their shared mind was too powerful to ignore.</p><p>By the time the sun set, they’d ridden every ride at the park – including four times on Fujiyama.</p>
<hr/><p>Days flew by and then months. And before the spirit knew it, the seasons – the very concept of which was still foreign to his mind – changed into autumn.</p><p>It was a cool November night, the start of a long, relaxing weekend and – while happy couples and jovial groups of friends walked past in stark contrast – his host chose to spend his Friday off by going to a film by himself. A <i>horror</i> film at that. The poster for a movie called <i>Cure</i> was plastered on the side of the building that they entered, and the spirit couldn’t help shaking his – <i>their</i> – head at the enigma that was his host.</p><p>“You have so many at home, landlord.” The chastising didn’t seem to dampen Ryou’s spirits – if anything, it only made him more resolute as he approached the counter and completed his purchase. “What’s so special about wasting money on inflated ticket prices and overpriced food?”</p><p>“If you’d had movies 3,000 years ago—” His host entered the semi-dark cinema and took a seat furthest back from the screen. “—You’d understand.”</p><p>“<i>Hmph.</i> I’ve seen <i>real</i> horrors you couldn’t even conceive of. Based on the drivel you’ve forced me to watch over the years, I highly doubt this one will be any different.”</p><p>“Forced you, <i>hm?</i>” Ryou rolled his eyes at the allegation – as if the spirit who had relentlessly used his body for unspeakable crimes and revenge could be <i>forced</i> to do anything. The strange thought brought a smile to Ryou’s face as he made himself comfy in his seat.</p><p>“And why are we all the way in the back? We can barely see anything.” The spirit could hear the impetuousness in his own voice – and hoped against hope that the boy fixated on the screen ahead was either choosing to ignore it or too preoccupied.</p><p>“It’s ‘we’ now? Thought you weren’t interested.” <i>Ohhhh,</i> that snarkiness would be the death of the spirit – if he wasn’t technically already dead.</p><p>“I’m just saying—”</p><p>“<i>Shhhh.</i> It’s starting. Don’t want to be rude.”</p><p>The spirit decided not to comment on the fact that there were hardly any other people in the theatre to be rude to as the lights went fully dark and the film began.</p><p>Truth be told, he did occasionally enjoy partaking in this strange ritual with his host – spending an evening alone together, watching morons trying to escape the fates that had been writ for them by over-imaginative screenwriters, seeing the strangely pure joy enter Ryou’s face as he figured out the whole film within minutes… yet still wanted to see it all to the bitter end.</p><p>He’d never admit it, but tonight’s movie was one of the better ones that the spirit had watched with him. After several weekends of slashers and body horrors and zombie films, the plot of this one at least felt more psychological in nature – focusing on a criminal who seemingly couldn’t remember the crimes he’d forced others to commit, a detective slowly going insane and pushing his loved ones away as he tried to figure out what was going on, a barrage of weapons including knives and axes and chains, a final showdown that perpetuated the cycle of violence that had existed from a hundred years before…</p><p>Oh.</p><p>By the time they left the movie theatre two hours later, the spirit couldn’t get an exact read on his host’s emotional state. They walked in silence for several minutes – the streets now far less congested than before, only adding to the heightened unease – before Ryou finally spoke.</p><p>“We should do this more often.” He knew that his host felt more than saw the raised eyebrow aimed in his direction. Ryou quickly backtracked – turning away with a slight blush on his face. “Get us out of the apartment, I mean. Like we did over the summer. Watch more films, do more things that <i>you</i> might enjoy that <i>don’t</i> involve breaking ten million laws.”</p><p>“Who said I enjo—”</p><p>“You liked this one. I could tell.” Ryou removed his hands from his pockets, interlaced his fingers together – rubbing his left thumb over his right palm – and spoke again, quieter. “You’re finally letting yourself feel more than just anger and hate. It’s… comforting.”</p><p>The spirit didn’t deign to confirm or deny – but he knew words weren’t needed. He maneuvered Ryou’s right hand – more easily controllable due to its distinct lack of a scar – so that it grasped unconsciously tighter to his left as they continued down the street towards home.</p>
<hr/><p>It was spring – March 14th to be exact – and his host had never looked so frightened.</p><p>After rollercoasters and horror films – not to mention the recent events at the Black Clown game shop – the spirit wondered how a small box could induce such apprehension in Ryou. But as translucent hands discarded the paper inside to reveal a beautiful pocketknife, all the tension in the room suddenly vanished.</p><p>He felt pale arms wrap around him from behind – and as they turned to face each other, neither was sure who spoke before they finally broke away from their personal chains and gave into the intimacy they'd longed for from each other for months.</p><p>“Thank you for setting us <i>both</i> free.”</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Beautiful Pain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We finally get a one-shot where the boys have separate bodies, huzzah! Today's prompt is <b>Scars</b>, so if you're squicky about blood or potential self-harm, maybe take caution before reading. This is an idea I've had for a long time, and I'm really glad I could finally put it to good use here - though, I'd also be remiss not to mention that isisishtar on Tumblr wrote <a href="https://isisishtar.tumblr.com/post/623573402855325697/okayilied-i-need-this-scene-worm-out-of-my-head">a really lovely, similar piece</a> this week, so definitely check that out, too! Just goes to show the power of fanfics and how similar ideas can take many forms :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What <i>did</i> you look like in your past life?”</p><p>It was a simple enough question. And truth be told, since his return months ago, he was surprised it hadn’t been brought up before now given their renewed intimacy – punctuated by the fact that, at this very moment, they lay naked beside each other within Ryou’s cluttered apartment.</p><p>“‘Past life’ implies that I’m somehow different now.” Deflection was usually the best answer he could provide in situations he found awkward. But this was <i>Ryou</i>, after all, and his former host was anything if not doggedly stubborn when he set his mind upon a task – whether it was creating campaigns for his beloved game, defending his so-called friends or pestering Bakura with questions about his past.</p><p>“But you <i>are</i> different. I was intertwined with you for too long to think otherwise. And now that you have your own body—”</p><p>“Careful, landlord.” The expression was meant playfully – a throwback to their years locked together as one – but it came out more weary than intended. “Just because we have a little <i>fun</i> every now and then doesn’t mean that you know the first thing about me.”</p><p>“I’d like to, though.” Ryou sat upright, not bothering to cover his scarred skin. The sight of it so close-up – while not obscured during the heights of ecstasy – made the former spirit shudder against his will. Curse this new, oh-so-human body… He turned away to focus on the splotches on the ceiling, eager to shift the conversation.</p><p>“Most people your age would <i>like</i> a great many things. Yet I imagine getting to know the ghost that used to haunt their every waking hour isn’t high on that list.”</p><p>“Oh, come on, spirit.” What was once an admonishment had now become a term of endearment – and Bakura hated to admit that he’d never quite tire of the precise way Ryou <i>sighed</i> the comforting phrase. An impulsive caress under his right eye brought their gazes together once more – and the fact that he was being touched <i>right there</i> almost made Bakura miss what was said next. “I’d like to finally get to know who you really were. And who you are now. If this, <i>us</i>, is going to continue… I feel like I’m owed that at the very least. <i>Please</i>.”</p><p>Maybe he’d have considered the request before then. But something about that final word and the tender gesture against his face made Bakura’s eyes narrow and his teeth clench. Before he knew what he was doing, he’d hopped out of bed, thrown on an oversized hoodie and torn jeans and made his way to the door. He heard Ryou shuffle behind him – probably tangled within the sheets of the too-small bed.</p><p>“It’s the middle of the night. You can’t just—”</p><p>Bakura ignored his pleas and walked out into the empty streets of Domino. It struck him as mildly ironic that he was headed into the darkness once again – its familiarity an odd comfort after so many millennia. He just needed some quiet for himself, some time to think of a strategy should he be faced with more queries in the near future.</p><p>Since his return a few months ago – Ryou swore up and down he’d had nothing to do with it, but Bakura noted how much better his former host had gotten at lying during their <i>arrangement</i> from years before – there had been no grand gestures, no fanfare, no looming questions about the who, what, where, when and why of his now-permanent existence. They’d only cared about making up for lost time and picking up their unusual relationship from where it had ended – from tearless non-goodbyes to not-long-enough embraces, and barely-there kisses to scorching caresses that set their all-too-real bodies aflame.</p><p>Yet in the last week, the queries had finally started – and, frankly, Bakura was at a loss as to how to suppress each personal layer that was threatened to be exposed with each interrogation. It had gotten to be too much this time – that sincerity and genuine curiosity that shined behind those big brown eyes had a way of undoing the former spirit. And <i>of course</i> Ryou would whinge about the abrupt end to their latest conjugal, but all would be forgiven in a few days because that’s just who he was. Yet Bakura also knew – in more ways than he could have ever imagined – not to underestimate his former host’s resilience.</p><p>And it made him feel slightly sick to his stomach to realise how much there was that he actually <i>wanted</i> to tell Ryou – how much he <i>needed</i> to talk with someone after residing in the company of a literal demon for so long.</p><p>But the memories just weren’t there anymore… What stories were there left to tell about the shell of a man whose sole purpose in “life” had been a singular goal of vengeance, driving him towards a vague horizon with each passing day? What could he say to explain away those scars that had been marked across Ryou’s beautiful, pure body – scars that were his doing? What sort of answers could he provide to such a trusting individual like – he gulped as he finally acknowledged the term – <i>his lover?</i></p><p>Bakura let his eyes drop as the rumblings of thunder above broke him out of his reverie. Whatever plan he could devise would have to come about sooner rather than later – and as he graced his long fingers against the spot that Ryou had touched moments ago, he suddenly came up with an idea. A terrible, potentially devastating idea, yes… but he had never been one for well-thought-out plans before, had he?</p>
<hr/><p>He managed to get caught in the heavy downpour by the time he found himself back at the apartment – <i>their</i> apartment, as his former host had now taken to calling it. Like the thief he desperately wished he could remember being so long ago, he crept silently across the wood floor, past a curled-up Ryou – really, it was pure luck that he was dead to the world right now, considering his poor sleeping habits most nights – and into the darkened kitchen. His hand soon met the hilt of the object he desired, and he rushed into the dimly-lit bathroom down the hall. Within seconds, his wet clothes were in a heap on the floor.</p><p>If Bakura did this quickly enough, the scar would be healed over by the time the man in the room next door awoke. Yet as he stared at his face in the mirror – too similar to Ryou’s, yet too distant from the bits and pieces he recalled of his own from 3,000 years before – he wondered <i>why</i> exactly the faint touch against his cheek had caused such a visceral reaction earlier. He vaguely remembered <i>something</i> from his checkered past, and instinctively moved the knife in his hand to just under his right eye when—</p><p>“So far as late-night activities go, I would’ve expected less mutilation and more groping from you.”</p><p>Ryou appeared in the doorway like a wraith – all flowing white hair and surreally pale skin, marred only by the bags under his tired eyes. He sounded as calm as ever, as if the concept of Bakura about to cut into himself was an everyday occurrence in his life – given their past experiences, it wasn’t far from the truth.</p><p>“You said you wanted to know what I looked like.” The blade pressed ever-so-lightly into the soft flesh, drawing forth the faintest drops of blood down its sharp edge.</p><p>“I’ve said a lot of things before.” Ryou stepped forward and gestured with his hand. “It’s the middle of the night, and I don’t <i>need</i> to know right now. At least not this way. Please, <i>Bakura</i>.”</p><p>There was that voice again – that wholesome, resolute air that could make the former spirit drop to his knees and beg for salvation from the horrors he’d both witnessed and caused. But he too was persistent, and held tight to the blade against his cheek – unmoving for the moment.</p><p>“Be glad I remember this much about how I used to look, <i>landlord</i>.” Bakura felt his pulse quicken against his ribcage as Ryou moved in closer – and he spoke very slowly to maintain as much control over his words as possible. “This may not be my body… but I can <i>make</i> it mine. It’ll be mine and yours will be yours and—"</p><p>“Of <i>course</i> it’s your body.” Ryou’s palm somehow found its way around Bakura’s, and they held the knife together. All the while, the former spirit felt he might collapse from the overwhelming emotions stirring in his chest, but kept his cool exterior as Ryou – like earlier – moved his free hand to stroke the area just under his eye. “No amount of hurting yourself will change anything. Not what happened, not who you are… not how much I love you for <i>you</i>.”</p><p>Bakura could only bear to look at the two of them through their reflections – their pitiable frames awkwardly stood in what could be construed as either a compromising or confrontational position. He was transfixed on the comforting words and the candor of Ryou’s eyes – and didn’t notice as he finally withdrew the knife straight down onto the other’s fingers.</p><p>There was far less blood – and far less noise from Ryou – than he’d expected. But his instincts took over and he brought the red-stained digits into his lips as he ran cold water from the tap and wet a nearby towel. Was this what you were supposed to do? Was this how you stopped the pain? Was this all that was needed to erase the past’s mistakes? Was this—</p><p>Ryou seized the towel from Bakura’s trembling frame and – after using it to clean up his marred hand – wiped it across his former tenant’s face as silent tears streamed down his ruddy cheek.</p><p>“Why would you want to know the person who did… <i>this</i>?” The words were heaved from Bakura’s body. He reached out to the five marks on Ryou’s chest and slid his palm across the scar on his left shoulder.</p><p>“Because you <i>are</i> a person.” Ryou ran his red fingers across the facial wound – their blood mixing together – and laid his scarred left hand atop Bakura’s rapidly pounding heart. “Because we <i>both</i> hurt each other… and know what it’s like to <i>be</i> hurt.”</p><p>Exhausted and in complete synchronicity, the two men embraced tighter than ever before – conceding to the visible <i>and</i> invisible scars they shared.</p><p>“Let’s see where we can go from here.”</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And now we finish up the week with the final prompt, <b>Reunion</b>. Ironically, this was the very first piece I wrote for the collection, so working backwards from this one was an interesting experience haha I'll be honest, this one-shot is by far the saddest and definitely made me cry as I wrote it - but I swear they're all happy-ish tears! Thank you to everyone who's read, commented, left kudos, etc. on these prompts. It's been really fun participating in Tendershipping Week and <i>finally</i> writing fics for these two :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ryou had no qualms with the destiny that had been writ long ago for Yugi, himself and the events surroundings those strange years in their intertwined youths. Yet he also couldn’t help but feel despondent whenever his friends would discuss how much they missed Atem, while any mention of the thief whose home had been massacred in the name of peace was carefully omitted – the spirit had been written off by history as the villain in the great Pharaoh’s story, with no one to advocate for <i>his</i> side or tell <i>his</i> story.</p><p>“I recognise he did a lot of bad, and if he was standing here right now you know I’d be the first to chastise him for putting our lives in danger so many times.” Ryou kept in touch with Yugi during their time at university – and the topic was one which he found came about easily with the amiable, kind-hearted boy. “But I also know what it’s like to be pushed to extremes. Who knows? <i>I</i> could have turned out like him if I hadn’t had my friends and family to support me through such dark times.”</p><p>“It’s too late to change what happened.” Yugi nodded in understanding, always eager to see all sides of the story. He offered a friendly hand atop Ryou’s slouched shoulder – the grip stronger than what would be expected for someone of his stature. “It sounds like he needed a second chance. I was able to provide that to Atem. Maybe that’s all the Ring spirit needed, too.”</p><p>Since high school had ended, Ryou’s life had been a blurry wave of aimlessness and renewed sorrow – somehow more lonesome than ever before. But now he smiled at how – despite the Millennium Items having been gone for three years – Yugi still retained the confidence and wisdom that had defined the Pharaoh.</p><p>Thus, with a newfound purpose, Ryou vowed to live that “second chance” as much as he could – for himself <i>and</i> for the one person who’d been a constant presence during his most tumultuous moments.</p>
<hr/><p>Upon graduation, Ryou travelled to what remained of Kul Elna – the village lost to the sands, whose exact location was known only to a handful of individuals. He recalled his time with the Ishtars from years before and sought them out – pleased to find that they would indulge the request to put his archaeology degree to good use.</p><p>“I imagine it’ll only take me a few weeks.” Ryou was confident – after the first day out in the blazing sun – that he’d be back in his small Domino apartment by the end of the month.</p><p>“You’re welcome to stay as long as you need to.” Isis brought him a towel with which to wipe his dirtied face and Rishid fixed him a basic meal and for once Ryou felt the sense of belonging to a family again.</p>
<hr/><p>A few weeks turned into a few months turned into a few years. After the painstaking affair of settling visa paperwork so he could continue to work in Egypt, Ryou had enough material on the story of Kul Elna and its most famous resident to publish several articles – and, eventually, renowned books – on his findings. He became the foremost expert on the village and its place in history – helping to amend textbooks and references that might otherwise cast its residents as simply mindless thieves.</p><p>He led digs to excavate the hidden land and conducted interviews – both remote and in-person – with Yugi and the Ishtars to fill in any missing gaps of knowledge. He found Malik especially helpful – the reformed tombkeeper had access to documents he’d studied as a child, and was the only other person to have interacted with the spirit for any significant length of time.</p><p>“You’re doing so much for him.” The blond pulled Ryou aside one day – fifteen years after he’d first arrived in Luxor. “I’m happy to continue helping… but don’t forget <i>your</i> life, too.”</p><p>In Malik’s hand was a Monster World figure – and Ryou suddenly knew what he wanted to do next.</p>
<hr/><p>Within the following ten years, Ryou had negotiated an agreement with Kaiba to develop a series of best-selling games – both virtual and traditional – based on the final showdown against the Pharaoh. Each playthrough was based on his painstaking research, allowing participants to live out the recreated events of 3,000 years ago. Sometimes the ending would differ, but Ryou took comfort in the fact that the story was being preserved – and that the spirit was being given a fair chance at being remembered himself.</p><p>“I never thought these would sell so well.” Kaiba had initially been reluctant to work with him – but Ryou was anything if not resilient. “I don’t say this often… but I’m impressed by your drive.”</p>
<hr/><p>By the time he turned 60, Kul Elna had been designated a World Heritage site – yet Ryou still didn’t feel like he’d done nearly enough with all the time he’d been given and which the spirit had been denied. As he traveled between Japan and Egypt – never enough time in either place to foster lasting relationships or deep friendships, aside from a renewed connection with his elderly father – his heart grew weary at the thought of those living <i>now</i> who might end up in a similar situation to his former tenant’s.</p><p>“I don’t want you to be alone when I’m gone, son.” The last visit before his father’s passing lingered in Ryou’s mind. “Don’t separate yourself from others like I did. Make your own family.”</p><p>So, Ryou took the next three decades of his life to work with those less fortunate in the spirit’s homeland – donating time, money and resources especially to orphans, whose eyes reflected a familiar desire for hope in a world that had stripped them of it. He became recognised worldwide for his humanitarian work and his kind nature – but even then he never felt it was sufficient.</p>
<hr/><p>In the grand scheme of things, he had only known the spirit for just six years – barely a tenth of his lifetime. Yet not a day passed that Ryou didn’t ponder on the rich life he’d been privileged to live – and whether it was the sort of life with which his former tenant might have also been blessed, had he not been so cursed from an early age.</p><p>Every few years since starting his personal crusade, Ryou had researched ways by which he could return the spirit to the world of the living – <i>really</i> giving him a second chance at life. Yet no matter how many methods he tried, nothing worked – until the eve of his 95th birthday.</p><p>It was a simple incantation – one he must have tried dozens of times before – yet something in the air shifted, and suddenly before Ryou stood what looked to be a younger version of himself. The same dark eyes and wild hair still laid claim to a marked difference between them – but there was no denying that he was face-to-face with the spirit of his long-ago youth.</p><p>“It’s been awhile, landlord.”</p><p>“You haven’t changed much.” Indeed, the lively features on his face contrasted rather nicely to the fine aging along Ryou’s skin as he caught their reflections in a nearby mirror. “I guess it was too much to expect any different after all these years.”</p><p>“Years? How long has it been?” The spirit floated more than walked along the room – taking in every book, photo and award displayed within the small apartment to which Ryou had been confined for the last couple years.</p><p>“Not long enough for what I wanted to do.” Ryou’s declining eyes followed the lean physique of the white-haired spirit – who looked more and more stunned with each growing second.</p><p>“But all this… It’s—”</p><p>“I did my best, spirit. I told your story. Helped your people. Brought as much justice and awareness as I could for what happened thousands of years ago. I was healthy until a few years back, but now I’m sick and—” Ryou let out a cough as he tried to rein in the beginnings of tears. “Is it enough? Did I do enough for you, Bakura?”</p><p>The spirit – <i>Bakura</i> – was suddenly right in front of him. He knelt down and cupped Ryou’s face with one hand – the touch was surprisingly warm and light, almost like it wasn’t quite there.</p><p>“You’ve done more than enough… <i>Ryou.</i>” The man in question perked up at the invocation of his name – something Bakura had denied him during their entire tenancy – and let a few stray tears fall down his wrinkled cheeks. “What you’ve accomplished will outlast us both. Now, it’s time for the next phase.”</p><p>Ryou chuckled at the phrasing – he <i>knew</i> there’d been a reason the spell worked this time.</p><p>“You were never so gentle before. Who are you and what have you done with the real Bakura?”</p><p>“Well, seeing your family after thousands of years will soften you out.” Bakura returned the small smile and clasped his hands atop Ryou’s frail digits. “And I seem to recall a young girl and an older woman who’ve been waiting anxiously for you, too.”</p><p>At the mention of his beloved sister and mother, Ryou nearly threw himself into Bakura’s arms and wept openly – yet he held back and glanced around at the room, taking in every accomplishment that had driven him over the last 75 years.</p><p>“Is it really time? There’s so much more I—”</p><p>The sensation of soft, warm lips on his own stopped whatever thoughts Ryou had – he closed his eyes and fell into the familiar feeling that lasted just the right amount of time. Bakura pulled back and gently kissed the crown of Ryou’s forehead, whispering against it.</p><p>“When the whole world left me behind, <i>you</i> picked up the pieces. As I recall, you were never great at taking orders.” Ryou – eyes still closed – sighed as he felt the scar on his left hand caressed.</p><p>“Does this mean I’ll finally get to meet the thief I’ve studied for so long as he once was?”</p><p>“You’ll have an eternity to do whatever you want, Ryou. You’ve earned it.”</p><p>When Ryou opened his eyes, the apartment was gone – in its place was a swath of gold and white, and in the center of it all were the faces of those he loved most beckoning him forth.</p><p>“You’re wrong, Bakura.” Smiling all the while, Ryou – now appearing as he did so many years ago – turned to the thief spirit and grasped his original, darkened hand. “<i>We’ve</i> earned it.”</p>
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